Famous Walkers We Have Known
by what evil lurks
Summary: Because everyone wants Taylor Swift to be a zombie. Even Michael Rooker. Slightly crack!fic. Series of one-shots. Requests may be taken.
1. Chapter 1

**Famous Walkers We Have Known**

**So I was reading a fic (which I would credit if I could remember what it was), where Carl had a throwaway line where he said that he hoped Taylor Swift was a walker. **

**Then on YouTube an interviewer asked a few cast members who they would like to become walkers. After conferring with Danai to get the name right, Rooker said "Taylor Swift", and there's other interviews around where he elaborates on that.**

**Yeah, I've fudged the timelines a bit. **

**DISCLAIMER: Don't own nothing, except a strong desire that AMC hadn't killed off Merle and Milty.**

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Carol dragged the rebar along the fence rattling it and shouting to the walkers to attract them over to the fence line. Behind her Daryl casually took them out one by one, striking through the fence with his buck knife. Nothing like a little light walker-killing on a sunny Georgia afternoon. It was somewhat pointless considering the outer gates still needed repairing, and there'd be more walkers tomorrow to replace these ones, but there was nothing wrong with blowing off a little steam after three days stuck inside the prison due to heavy rain. There was no point going out hunting as there was going to be more rain in an hour or two, and all the signs were that it was going to be just as torrential as the days they'd just had.

Daryl raised his arm to take out the next walker, who had once been a tall slim blonde girl but was now a lightly rotted shambling corpse, one arm half dangling off and an old large bite decomposing on the same shoulder.

"Hold up Daryl!"

"Say wha'?"

"I think I _know_ her…" Carol said, taking a good look at the walker, and especially the walker's clothing, which had once been a red blouse printed with little white hearts, and a pair of snappily tailored black shorts. The outfit was now tattered and faded, but retained enough of its original style for Carol to recognise it as one Sophia had begged her for a copy of.

"What, she your neighbour or something?"

"Hardly…" Carol looked up to the watch-tower and shouted up to it. "Beth! Beth, honey, could you come down here for a minute?"

Beth waved her assent and in moments was making her way down the stairs of the tower.

"Ain't nuthin you can do for her, you should just let me –"

"Just wait," Carol hushed Daryl as the walker grabbed the fence and moaned and growled softly. It stuck one bony arm through, trying to reach for Daryl, who through long experience maintained a safe distance.

Impatiently Daryl rested his weight back on one foot, and crossed his arms over his chest. Up in the yard Beth had stopped briefly to talk to Carl, then the two of them came through the inner gate and made their way along the drive.

"Even better," Carol said mysteriously. Daryl's eyes narrowed a little as he remembered the last time Carol had said that. This here was a very different situation. He didn't know what the hell Carol thought she was up to, but he was willing to wait a little while to find out.

"What's up?" Carl called out once he and Beth were close.

"Come over here, both of you. Take a look at this walker. She look familiar to you?" Carol asked.

Beth and Carl perused the walker, which stretched out its hand towards Carl and snarled hungrily.

"No… I don't think so…?" Beth replied dubiously.

Carl shot her a look and then turned his gaze back at the walker, looking deeply, as if he was trying to see the person it had once been. His expression was doubtful, but then suddenly changed.

"Holy shit!" he cried out, and turned to Carol. "Is that…?"

Carol tipped her head to one side, eyebrows raised in a "what do you think" expression, choosing to ignore the profanity.

Beth stepped a little closer to the fence, trying to see what it was they had seen. The walker suddenly moved and surged towards her, and Beth's mouth dropped open, her blue eyes wide. "Oh my lord! That's... is that _Taylor Swift?"_

"Sure looks like that to me. And I remember that outfit from one of her music videos. Sophia pestered me for weeks for a blouse just the same."

"What's she doing in _Georgia_?" Carl wondered aloud.

"The hell is Tyler Swift?" Daryl asked impatiently only to find three pairs of blue eyes turned upon him with varying levels of pity and scorn.

"_Taylor_ Swift," Beth corrected him. "She's one of the most famous singer songwriters in America today!" she declared.

"Yeah! And she's really hot!" Carl added.

"Not anymore, "Daryl muttered, with a glance towards the putrefying blonde walker.

"Really Daryl," Carol added wryly, "how could you not know who Taylor Swift is?"

"Yeah Daryl," Carl added cheekily, with the loftiness of youth, "next you'll be telling us you never heard of Lady Gaga either."

" 'course I've heard of Lady Gaga," Daryl replied scornfully, "they had that song 'Need You Now'. I liked it."

There was a moment of silence. Carol pressed her hand to her mouth to try to cover her smile. Carl was not so polite, suddenly chortling at Daryl's mix-up.

Beth informed him kindly, "That's Lady _Antebellum_."

" 'tever," Daryl started to get a little testy, " Skynnyrd, Led Zepp and Johnny Cash are all the music I need."

"Johnny Cash?" Carl wrinkled up his lightly-freckled nose and pulled a face like he had tasted something bad. His tone spoke volumes when he said, "_Country_?"

Daryl was outraged at the slighting of The Man in Black. "It ain't _country!_ It's _**Johnny Cash**_!"

Their debate was interrupted by the loud heavy rumbling of thunder far off in the north. Daryl looked over to the black clouds hanging low on the horizon, trying to gauge how soon the storm would arrive.

"Well, fascinating as all this music critique is, it ain't getting the job done." Carol strode decisively over to walker-Taylor and plunged the rebar through both the fence and the walker's eye-socket, then pulled the metal rod back through to the safe side of the fence.

The walker dropped like a stone.

The foursome observed it in silence for a few moments as the storm began to roll in.

Then Carl said, "Well, I guess now her and that guy are _really _never ever ever, getting back together!"

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**Author's note: the Johnny Cash conversation really happened, between me and a flatmate (I had Daryl's line I hasten to add). **

**Suggest a Famous Walker and if I find it amusing enough I will write it.**

**Or you could just… you know… leave a review. **


	2. Chapter 2: Down in the Boondocks Pt 1

**Thanks for all the great reviews for Chapter One, I am glad to be able to give people a laugh. Clearly Justin Bieber is the leading choice for zombification, and may well appear in a later chapter. In the meantime, however, I was feeling a bit more inspired by other suggestions, so here 'tis. Credit to **The Sword of Salvation **and **DarylDixon'sgirl1985 **for their ideas.**

**Thanks also to **Plania **who rightly pointed out "The only problem is that using real people is against the rules". I have given this some thought and here is my take on the situation. In general I am opposed to RPF, I don't read it and I certainly don't usually write it, as I consider it to be intrusive on the person's privacy, especially intimate stories. However… given that a person is famous that makes them (to a certain extent) a public figure, and I think it's fair to expect **_**some**_** degree of parody/satire (can anyone say "Saturday Night Live?") especially if they have done something noteworthy such as general jackassery or trainwreckishness (yeah I'm looking at you Charlie Sheen and Britney Spears). So I hope people will take these little fics in the spirit meant, and just to be on the safe side I have made them a little less explicit and more hinty in the actual story as to who is appearing. **

**DISCLAIMER (in the style of Daryl Dixon): Of course I don't own TD… dumbass. **

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Down in the Boondocks: Pt1

Old torn scripts lay cast about on the ground, the occasional ripped page fluttering as it fetched up against a piece of equipment or the leg of a canvas director's chair. Glenn and Daryl moved through the mess of gear, stepping over cables and around abandoned movie cameras, dollies, and tarnished lighting rigs. Beyond the set and the video village were several large trucks parked in rows, a possible option for liberating some diesel. They headed for the nearest and made their way towards the rear of the truck.

A walker came into sight around the end of the large semi, followed by a group of three female walkers all of which were wearing the same now-tattered dark blue t-shirts with a logo down the front.

Glenn squinted a little to try it make it out. The three white words were positioned vertically, making the Roman numeral III, and were in a semi-Gothic script. It looked like… "Veritas Aequitas Fraternitas". Above the logo, on the left breast, embroidered in gold thread in smaller more modern script, were the words "Boondock Saints".

Well that explained the large banner he'd seen, half of which had been torn away by weather, leaving behind the legend "…aints III". Nothing like a little pop culture in the middle of an apocalypse.

Glenn turned his attention back to the male walker, a tallish guy with short slightly spiky dark blonde hair. It was just as well he was a walker, otherwise he'd be sweating like crazy in the intense Georgia midday heat, given that he was wearing jeans and a dark blue wool pea-jacket that had clearly once been of good quality.

Just then the walker noticed them and instantly turned, shambling rapidly towards them down the alleyway formed between the two large movie trucks. The female walkers immediately followed on its heels. Glenn waited for Daryl, behind him, to take out the leading walker with a crossbow bolt; they didn't want to risk the noise of guns alerting any other walkers in the vicinity, and why get any closer to this little ragtag bunch than they had to.

After a few moments with no bolt surging through the air, Glenn quickly turned his attention from the walkers to Daryl.

Daryl had his crossbow up and at the ready, but stood as if transfixed, his blue eyes staring at the rapidly-closing walker, who was now close enough for Glenn to make out a worn tattoo transfer down what was left of one hand.

"Uh, Daryl?" If the redneck didn't act real soon Glenn was going to have to get up close and personal with the walker himself, any moment now.

"I feel like I know him…" Daryl murmured, still gazing at the walker as if it was a long-lost brother.

"Huh?"

"…like we're _linked _somehow…"

Suddenly a knife flew through the air and embedded itself in the walker's eye socket. The walker crumpled to the ground. The other walkers' hungry snarls changed to odd little coos of consternation.

"Daryl!" Rick called to him, running past Daryl and Glenn to retrieve his knife. "Are you with us?"

"Hell yeah!" The spell was broken and next moment a crossbow bolt took out the closest female walker. Rick dispatched the second with his knife and Glenn dealt with the third. As Daryl retrieved his bolt from the head of the walker he muttered, "Hell, you are one ugly Betty."

Maggie moved up from the rear where she had been taking drag, keeping a watch-out for walkers behind them, and Glenn walked back for a word with her, but was distracted by the partly decomposed body of the male walker. He took a closer look. The letter V was still dimly visible on the walker's left index finger.

"Uh, guys? I think this walker used to be –"

"Shit!" Rick cursed uncharacteristically. Daryl, taking point, had moved out of the alleyway between the trucks. As Rick had followed him out, he had turned in time to see a huge herd of walkers to their left, shuffling rapidly towards them. Rick turned to the right to check out a retreat in that direction, only to see more walkers than they could handle coming at them from that angle as well. There was nowhere to go except into the trucks. Maggie quickly tried the handle of the door.

"It's locked!"

"Up!" Rick ordered. "Get up onto the roof of the truck!" As he ran back into the alleyway Maggie and Glenn scrambled up the side of the cab of the truck, grabbing whatever protrusions they could to get themselves up onto the roof and out of reach of the walkers. Rick followed swiftly, having to shake one ankle out of a walker's grasp as he climbed up and rolled onto the roof of the cab.

The trio lay flat on the roof of the large white truck, trying to incite the walkers as little as possible. Experience had taught them that if they were quiet and kept out of sight, the walkers would eventually lose interest and wander off.

"Can you see Daryl?" Maggie asked, tucking a dark lock behind one ear and handing Glenn his cap.

Rick shook his head, but did not look unduly concerned. "He was out in the open about halfway between the truck and the buildings when we spotted the herd. He ran for the buildings; gives us a field of crossfire if it comes down to that. Better that he's over there than pinned down here with us."

Maggie just nodded – Daryl was an expert at survival. A moment later a large stone hit the roof of the truck, coming from the direction of the buildings. He was still alive at least.

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**To be continued….**

**Norman has said on a panel that his weapon of choice in a zombie apocalypse would be Sean Patrick Flanery. Maybe that's not such a good choice after all….**


	3. Chapter 3: Down in the Boondocks Pt 2

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Down in the Boondocks Pt 2

Rick zipped up, having taken pleasure in pissing on the heads of the walkers ambling about below. He had few other options for relieving himself, stuck on the top of the truck. He, Glenn and Maggie had spent a cold night and a searing day on the roof of the truck, trying to out-wait the herd. Despite the trio keeping quiet and out of sight, the walkers below seemed extraordinarily persistent, and there seemed little point in trying to maintain "radio silence".

A chunk of the herd had been drawn away the night before by a fire that had started in a second set of buildings a few hundred yards away. Rick assumed it had been lit by Daryl in an attempt to draw off the herd, hopefully leaving only a few stragglers that they could easily pick off, but unfortunately the bulk of the herd had stayed with the "bird in the hand" rather than be lured to the potential of more in the bush. Rick guessed that the continued soft breeze, which had provided their only respite from the fall midday heat, had also continued to waft the smell of fresh meat down to the walkers. He could not think of any other reason why they would be so tenacious. It flew in the face of the walker behaviour with which they were now so familiar.

The walkers seemed to be mostly film crew, going by their t-shirts and caps. One of them was dressed in what had once been quite a dapper outfit, well-cut trousers and matching waistcoat, and a white shirt and silk tie. A few were clearly cast, being dressed as mobsters. Rick wondered how they had all been overtaken so quickly, and why they still formed such a tight bunch – he would have expected many to have wandered away through the gates of the set in search of a meal.

If the walkers didn't lose interest soon, it looked like he, Glenn and Maggie were destined to spend another cold hungry night on top of the truck. There were simply too many walkers, too close to the trucks, for the trio to take them on. Even if they chose to use their guns, which would enable them to pick off the walkers quite easily from their vantage point, they had insufficient ammunition to take on a herd this size. Their only option was to wait them out, or wait for the rest of their group to come looking for them.

Even worse, they had heard nothing from Daryl since the fire last night. Daryl was a survivor _par excellence, _but even he was not up to taking on this big a herd. Rick hoped that he had gone for reinforcements, and had not been cut-off or taken down during last night's little conflagration.

Suddenly there was a crackle and buzz of electronically amplified sound from over at the video village. A large screen was installed there, and pictures began flickering across it. Judging by the garb of the two actors appearing on-screen, which matched that of the male walker they had taken out, these were the dailies of the movie whose set they were stranded on.

The walkers' interest was immediate. Their heads went up, and nearly the whole herd turned en masse, to amble over to the screen and watch entranced, occasional growls softly emanating from the crowd. There were only a few stray walkers left near the trucks, and one, barefooted, rotating aimlessly out in the open ground between the trucks and the buildings where Daryl had initially taken cover.

Rick, Glenn and Maggie looked at each other, and made their way towards the cab of the truck. This was their opportunity. Rick was surprised the electronic equipment was still working, and figured whoever started it up must have found a generator to power it. He hoped against hope it was Daryl, although it did not seem the sort of knowledge one would expect of him. How to start a genny, yes; how to run the film equipment, no. Regardless, Rick was grateful, and he rapidly slid down the side of the cab to land on the hardstand as quietly as possible.

In moments, he and Maggie had taken out the closest walkers. The stray out in the open turned and headed slowly towards them. Rick began to run towards it, but then slowed to a staggering halt.

"No! no….oh god, no…"

"What is it?" Maggie turned from dealing with her walker and swiftly ran towards Rick, placing a hand on his arm. He gazed towards the lone walker in anguish. Maggie followed his gaze, and a sob broke across her lips.

It was Daryl.

No crossbow, and inexplicably dressed in pale blue satin pyjamas (_and was that a Hello Kitty design on them?_), but once you got past the glazed walker eyes and rotting flesh, unmistakeably Daryl. Right down to the little mole above his mouth.

"Oh dear God." Maggie choked out. She raised her knife and took a couple of steps towards him, but then faltered.

Glenn had caught up with them now, and, stiffening his back and setting his jaw, he said, "We have to do it. He would want that."

"I know," whispered Maggie in reply. "It's just… it's _Daryl_."

Glenn nodded. "I'll do it." He took a deep breath, lifted his knife and made to step forward.

"No," Rick said, one hand on Glenn's arm. "I'll take care of it."

Glenn hesitated, his eyes on Rick's tortured yet determined face. "You don't have to do all the hard stuff Rick."

Rick nodded, his eyes on the slowly gaining walker. "No; but I have to do this."

"Alright." Glenn stepped back and took Maggie's hand, and they waited as Rick breathed deeply and began to move forward.

Suddenly from behind them came the familiar whoosh of a crossbow bolt surging through the air. Next moment it was embedded in the eye socket of the Daryl walker, who wavered for a moment then slowly, gracefully, folded to the ground.

The trio turned in astonishment to see Daryl Dixon behind them, larger than life and twice as dirty, loading another bolt into his bow. "Come on people, we ain't got time to stand round yapping."

"Daryl," cried out Maggie, running over to him and flinging her arms around him, "you're alive!" Glenn was close behind her, and even Rick gripped Daryl's shoulder firmly, with a quiet, heartfelt, "Brother."

"Course I'm alive," Daryl tried to pull away, "get offa me woman. What is your problem?"

Rick, Maggie and Glenn looked at him with varying degrees of disbelief.

"Did you even _look_ at that walker before you put it down?" asked Glenn, crooking his hand around Maggie's elbow and drawing her away from a clearly uncomfortable Daryl.

"Course I did, dummy, only one of _the_ most basic rules of shootin; identify your target."

The others looked to each other, each a little dumbfounded, despite their joy at seeing Daryl alive and well, and as plain-spoken as ever.

"Take a closer look," Rick suggested dryly.

"You want me to go sightseeing while we gotta herd of walkers forty feet away?" Daryl spoke harshly, but strode towards the downed walker none the less. Rick intercepted him on the way with a light touch on the arm. "You OK?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"You seemed a little… _off_ yesterday."

Daryl ducked his head a little. "Yeah, felt a little _weird_ when I saw that walker – feeling disappeared as soon as you took it out." He carried on towards the newly downed walker, gave it a cursory glance as he retrieved his bolt and said, "So? What about it?"

"Jesus." Maggie rolled her eyes.

"Doubt it's him," Daryl quipped quickly.

"Don't you ever look in the mirror?" Maggie spoke almost angrily, then added, looking at his scruffy light beard, "No, I guess not."

"What? You think it looks like me?" Daryl bent closer and pushed the walker with his foot, turning its face towards him. "Nah, I'm much better lookin." Straightening up he turned to take in the looks on the faces of his comrades. His expression changed in a flash.

"Is that what all this is about? You thought this," kicking the walker's leg, "was me? That's why you were standing around having a United Nations debate instead of taking it down and hightailing it out of here?"

"Dude, it looks _just like_ you."

Daryl shook his head slowly, and then quickly skimmed the area for any walker stragglers.

"We gotta get going, we're burning daylight. But, three things, people; firstly I don't care if a walker is me, lil Asskicker or Mother fuckin Theresa – you don't stand round holdin hands and singing Rock of Ages – you take it out then and fuckin there. B, take a look at the amount of rot on this ranny – that look like a day-old walker to you? _Come on_. And last but not least, you shoulda known it wasn't me anyways - you wouldn't catch me dead in those lame-ass pyjamas."

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The End (of Down in the Boondocks chapters)

**If you go onto Youtube there are interviews where cast members are asked how they'd fare in a real zombie apocalypse (see "****The Walking Dead - Norman Reedus & Michael Rooker Interview****"). ****Norman says he'd hole up in a penthouse apartment - in pyjamas. (I chose to omit the fuzzy bunny slippers part of the outfit, cos that'd just be**_** too**_** unbelievable…). **

**In my fic, did anyone catch the tiny cameo of a well-known director of zombie movies?**

**Feel free to review.**


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